I watched as the human race burned mother earth,
I watched as they, in turn, ate each other in fits of madness.
I watched as they tore children limb from limb, all while the child still screamed, and I did nothing but sit back and watch the events unfold.
Was I to stop them?
How could I?
Those brutal maniacs, armed with sticks and sharpened plastic. Was I to jump in and be eaten myself?
How is that right?
Mother Earth scorns us now; looks on in what might have been pity, had we not betrayed her.
And so we watch the fires burn, let civilization turn to ash! And along with it the scum of the human race.
I watched them feed each other food grown in their own shit.
I watched as they cut their faces and stuck long needles into their arms.
I watched as the young were sent to mental hospitals for speaking the truth as they saw it.
But again, fear stood in my way. Fear of living, fear of dying, fear of being heard! But most of all, fear of what I might become.
Fear that I may be turned into someone who refuses to let the fire take its course.
Who picks up a blanket, beating the fires in a futile attempt to put them out.
Who screams in empathetic pain every time a child dies.
Who feels emotion burning deep inside them, and opens his mouth to let it all out.
For, if I became this, I would bring upon others a hellfire so great, would cause more damage than the nuclear bombs you’re always hearing about on television.
That, should I open myself, the world would look on in horror at what they would find; looks of confusion and utter not-understanding.
That they would see my suffering as a thing that can be stopped, a thing to be feared.
That they would not see that my burden is eternal, save for the summer.
The Pills cloud my mind, so I do not take them. Yet the coffee and the cigarettes ease it, leaving me in a cancerous euphoric state.
So save me not, my friends. You will only fail.
Hath the world no mercy?
The autistic are spit on, the poor sit on their asses while the rich work till their fingers bleed.
Is this right?
I be neither rich or poor, and I say, “Is this right?”
Some would say so.
The alcohol ridden homeless, they wander the streets now, picking the flesh off the bones of the deceased, quickly shoveling this disgusting palate into their toothless mouths.
And I watch, I watch as they bludgeon one another’s skulls into pulp with nothing more than pieces of concrete, scavenged from our decaying roads.
I watch as they stagger towards government buildings, Molotov cocktails clenched tightly in their grimy fists. And rightly so, they do this. For our government is merely a force of suppression. Nothing more.
I watch as policemen kill and kill again. Pepper spray and teargas, billy clubs and handcuffs.
And I watch.
I watch as they are dragged kicking and screaming to a dimly lit courtroom, where they are quickly judged by a jury of their “Peers” to… Death.
A punishment so great for a crime that our country was build on, made from even!
Indeed, as alarms wail and men cry, I sit. I watch.
My brain, so conflicted, the suffering doth not end! Should I accept my feeling for what they are?
So sure that others have felt worse…
Nay! For I feel what I feel, and I am not told what to feel!
But these thoughts are nothing more than frivolous wishes; for every day I am told what is right, what is wrong. I am told what to eat and who to love. I am told who to serve, and who will serve me.
I am told that my feelings are nothing. They are meaningless!
No more than tiny fleas.
However, fleas bite, don’t you know.
And one day, I fear, the cork that keeps all this shit bottled up inside of me will pop, break free.
Maybe someday, running naked through the streets of Chicago I will scream to the world, tell them of this void, this disharmony that burns, cut my heart open with a straight razor and drinks from it, and will fling myself laughing and crying from the highest building I can find…
If the fear doesn’t consume me first.
And should the fear consume me, I shall die in a pit of utter self loathing and hate.
Oh yes, the end grows ever nearer friends, in fact, so near it may already be upon us.
© Copyright 2016 Razorbladesandciggarettes. All rights reserved.
Poem / Poetry
Poem / Poetry
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